UP IN THE MORNING EARLY

Tune--"_Cold blows the wind._"

["The chorus of this song," says the poet, in his notes on the Scottish Lyrics, "is old, the two stanzas are mine." The air is ancient, and was a favourite of Mary Stuart, the queen of William the Third.]

CHORUS.

Up in the morning's no for me, Up in the morning early; When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw, I'm sure it's winter fairly.

I.

Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west, The drift is driving sairly; Sae loud and shill I hear the blast, I'm sure it's winter fairly.

II.

The birds sit chittering in the thorn, A' day they fare but sparely; And lang's the night frae e'en to morn-- I'm sure it's winter fairly.

Up in the morning's no for me, Up in the morning early; When a' the hills are cover'd wi' snaw, I'm sure it's winter fairly.

XLIV.

THE

YOUNG HIGHLAND ROVER.

Tune--"_Morag._"

[The Young Highland Rover of this strain is supposed by some to be the Chevalier, and with more probability by others, to be a Gordon, as the song was composed in consequence of the poet's visit to "bonnie Castle-Gordon," in September, 1787.]

I.

Loud blaw the frosty breezes, The snaws the mountains cover; Like winter on me seizes, Since my young Highland rover Far wanders nations over.

Where'er he go, where'er he stray.

May Heaven be his warden: Return him safe to fair Strathspey, And bonnie Castle-Gordon!

II.

The trees now naked groaning, Shall Soon wi' leaves be hinging.

The birdies dowie moaning, Shall a' be blithely singing, And every flower be springing.

Sae I'll rejoice the lee-lang day When by his mighty Warden My youth's returned to fair Strathspey, And bonnie Castle-Gordon.

XLV.

HEY, THE DUSTY MILLER

Tune--"_The Dusty Miller._"

[The Dusty Miller is an old strain, modified for the Museum by Burns: it is a happy specimen of his taste and skill in making the new look like the old.]

I.

Hey, the dusty miller, And his dusty coat; He will win a shilling, Or he spend a groat.

Dusty was the coat, Dusty was the colour, Dusty was the kiss That I got frae the miller.

II.

Hey, the dusty miller, And his dusty sack; Leeze me on the calling Fills the dusty peck.

Fills the dusty peck, Brings the dusty siller; I wad gie my coatie For the dusty miller.

XLVI.

THERE WAS A La.s.s.

Tune--"_Duncan Davison._"

[There are several other versions of Duncan Davison, which it is more delicate to allude to than to quote: this one is in the Museum.]

I.

There was a la.s.s, they ca'd her Meg, And she held o'er the moors to spin; There was a lad that follow'd her, They ca'd him Duncan Davison.

The moor was driegh, and Meg was skiegh, Her favour Duncan could na win; For wi' the roke she wad him knock.

And ay she shook the temper-pin.

II.

As o'er the moor they lightly foor, A burn was clear, a glen was green, Upon the banks they eas'd-their shanks, And ay she set the wheel between: But Duncan swore a haly aith, That Meg should be a bride the morn, Then Meg took up her spinnin' graith, And flang them a' out o'er the burn.

III.

We'll big a house,--a wee, wee house, And we will live like king and queen, Sae blythe and merry we will be When ye set by the wheel at e'en.